


and maybe we'll wake up in a city far away

by spinnerofyarns



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: AU based on 4x10, Attempted Assault, Self-indulgent Boston Bullshit, Trauma, jared is donald and donald is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-18 20:32:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11882268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinnerofyarns/pseuds/spinnerofyarns
Summary: There is nothing in the world that we can count onEven that we will wake up is an assumptionBut I know for a fact that I loved someoneAnd for about a year he lived in Boston----An AU where Richard doesn't ask Jared to come back, and they go their separate ways.Okay MAYBE this was an excuse to write about my home city. Stop judging me.Title + summary lyrics from "Boston" by The Dresden Dolls





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And so continues my trend of naming fics with Amanda Palmer/Dresden Dolls lyrics.

When Richard fires Jared, he drives home and forces himself to shower and drink a cup of tea before he powers up his laptop to start looking for a new job.

He polishes up his resume, dusts off his old [donald.dunn@gmail.com](mailto:donald.dunn@gmail.com) address, and logs into Monster, Indeed, Glassdoor, and LinkedIn.

He writes that his departure from Pied Piper was “by mutual agreement”. It’s not a lie, technically.

Gloria encourages him to take some time off, to relax and take care of himself before flinging himself headfirst into another project. She nagged at him for months to quit Pied Piper, after all, and doesn’t want him falling into a different hole just as he’s climbed out of one.

But the thing is, Jared  _needs_ another job, another company to devote himself to, blindly. Another task to throw himself into, if only so he doesn’t have to spend any more time than necessary alone with his thoughts. Before Pied Piper there was Hooli, and Google, and Nancy Pelosi’s office, and Vassar. Jared thinks of himself as a very productive shark - he has to keep moving, keep working, keep swimming, or he’ll drown in his past. So he sends out resumes, schedules interviews, and a few weeks later finds himself packing up his things to move to a new rented apartment in Cambridge, Massachusetts, to take an executive position at a biotech company. 

He decides to drive east with all his worldly belongings packed into a U-Haul trailer attached to his car. As he leaves Palo Alto behind, he boxes up his life there, all his memories, and stows it all away, the way he stowed away the memories of all his foster homes nice and safe in the proverbial attic of his mind. Somewhere around Chicago, he starts giving “Donald” as his name at hotels and restaurants again.

He takes a bit of a detour through Pennsylvania, where he visits his mother’s grave for the first time in years.

It’s raining when he goes to the cemetery, and as he lays a bunch of daffodils – her favorite flowers – on the grave, he’s glad for it. This way, no one can tell that he’s crying.

“I’m sorry, mom,” he says quietly.

By the time he reaches Cambridge, his apologetic slouch is almost gone. He’s starting a new life here, a new career. He’s Donald Dunn again, and Donald Dunn is trying his best to be happy.

\----

On his first day at his new job, Donald puts on his favorite grey sweater. He wants to look his best for his ID photo, after all.

The founder meets him at the door, accompanied by the head of HR.

“Hi, you must be Donald. Lovely to finally put a face to the name. I’m Amanda, but please, call me Mandy.” Mandy is a tall wiry redhead with freckles and grey-green eyes behind funky octagonal glasses. As she shakes his hand, Donald takes in her outfit – a button-down under a red sweater and dark blue skinny jeans tucked into black knee-high boots. Clearly, the dress code is more casual than Donald thought.

“And I’m Jacob, we talked on the phone.” The head of HR hands Donald a file of papers instead of shaking his hand. “When you get a minute, if you could fill these out and drop them on my desk – my office is right next door to yours. No rush, just get them in by the end of the week so I can get you into our system.”

Donald nods. “Okay.”

“Your office is already all set up,” Mandy says, walking into the building. Donald and Jacob follow her.

The room is set up as an open office, with a lab behind a locked door and private offices along the walls. Mandy crosses the room and opens a glass door with _Donald Dunn, VP of Operations_ engraved on it.

The office is almost entirely glass, except for the two walls separating it from those on either side. There’s a floor-to-ceiling window behind the desk, looking out over the rooftops of Cambridge.

Donald sets his bag down on the chair and takes a moment to set up his laptop on the desk. He leaves the forms Jacob gave him next to the laptop, and follows Mandy on a tour of the office.

“The kitchen’s right there,” Mandy says, gesturing as they pass it. “Help yourself to snacks, we restock regularly. We’re going to get a nitro cold brew machine next week, which I’m super pumped for. We’ve got a cluster of conference rooms here, and, of course, the lab.” She pulls a keycard out of her pocket and swipes it to unlock the door. “You’ll get lab access with your key car because you’re an executive,” she explains. “Only execs and lab techs have access, for security reasons. Over here we’ve got our mice – we inject them with pathogens and try to find the smallest amount of blood we need to get an accurate result. Are you all right?” she asks, noticing that Donald has gone pale. Well, paler than usual.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m…not great in medical settings. And I skipped breakfast today, that might be part of it. I’ll be okay, I just need a second.”

“Quite all right,” Mandy says, leading him back out of the lab. “It’s not likely that you’ll need to go in there all that often, just once in a while to see how R&D’s going and if there’s some sort of emergency. Do you want to stop by the kitchen for a snack? I’m going to be introducing you to people, it might be a good idea to get your blood sugar up.”

Donald nods and they go back to the kitchen, where he grabs a granola bar and makes himself a mug of Darjeeling tea.

“Not a coffee guy, huh?” Mandy asks.

“No, it makes me jittery,” Donald explains. It’s true – the only time he drank coffee was at Hooli, when Gavin made him pull five all-nighters in a row. It left him jumpy and anxious, constantly on edge.

“Me too,” Mandy admits, “but it’s the only way I can function with the schedule I have. Bit of a trade-off, really.”

Donald nods. “Of course. I worked for another startup before this, the founders’ schedule can get crazy.”

“Crazy’s an understatement,” Mandy laughs. “Now, I’m going to introduce you to the rest of the team. You’ve met Jacob, so now let’s track down Anya, our head of research.”

Donald follows Mandy through the office to an office near the lab door. Mandy knocks on the door to the office, and waits for the young woman inside – small and thin with a shock of dark brown curls – to look up from her laptop and motion for them to come in.

“Hey Anya,” Mandy says. “I just wanted to introduce you to our new VP of Operations, Donald.”

Anya waves. “Forgive me for not shaking your hand,” she says, “but it’s flu season and I’m partially immunocompromised.” There’s a box of purple surgical masks on her desk, and one hanging from the corner of her monitor that she puts on before standing up to greet Donald.

“Sorry,” she says, muffled by the mask. “Welcome to Dyax.”

“Thanks,” Donald says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Anya says. “Mandy, while I have you here, I’ve done some more tinkering with the skin cell tests, I think we might have something.”

Mandy nods. “Cool. I’m giving Donald a tour right now, but ping me in about twenty minutes?”

Anya gives her a thumbs-up and goes back to her work. As they continue through the building, Mandy says “She’s a genius. She had a whole bunch of autoimmune stuff going on as a kid, so lots of tests and hospitals. This whole idea came about when we were roommates in college and I drove her to and from all her appointments. She’s been experimenting with immunosuppressants for a while now, and the results are great, but now cold and flu season are hell on earth for her.”

Donald nods. “I understand, sort of – I’m allergic to a key ingredient in flu shots, and the nasal spray isn’t all that effective.”

Mandy laughs. “Welcome to the club. I sweat about half the company has some chronic immune system bullshit going on. Anyway, let’s keep going, there are a couple others you haven’t met yet. One of them isn’t actually here, but I can at least put you in touch with out head of Finance.”

Donald nods, following her through the office. She stops at another glass door and peeks inside. “Okay, Jasper is on the phone, so we’ll get back to him later. And Mia from Marketing is presenting at a conference, you’ve met Jacob…and actually that’s everyone. So I’ll let you get settled, and we’ll go grab lunch and introduce you to the whole company around 1. Okay?”

Donald nods. “Sounds great, see you then.”

He heads back to his office and sets up the rest of his desk  - his laptop front and center, a Newton’s cradle from his days at Google on the corner of the desk, and a small framed photograph from the going away party that Gloria threw him. In it, he’s in the middle, with Gloria and Margaret and Muriel and Rose around him. He’s smiling brighter than he has in years.

“Donald,” he whispers. “Donald. I’m Donald.”

\----

Growing up bouncing around homes on the east coast, Donald always dreamed of running away to California. Somewhere sunny and warm, where he would be safe and far away from his abusers, where no one could lock him out in the cold.

And at first – with Congresswoman Pelosi and then at Google – he _was_ happy. The darkness of his youth had sloughed off him somewhere halfway across the country, and he was treated with respect and kindness for the first time in years.

And then the offer from Hooli arrived. It would let him pay off his student loans faster, and working for Gavin Belson was…the opportunity of a lifetime.

But Donald quickly became disillusioned with Hooli, and Gavin. And in spite of himself, he framed Richard as his savior.

That was a mistake he would never make again.

“Nobody will save you, Donald,” he says to himself. “You need to stop making people into heroes. You’re saving yourself.”


	2. Chapter 2

After Richard fires Jared, Pied Piper falls apart. Gilfoyle’s smart fridge hack is just life support, keeping them afloat long enough for Richard and Monica to sell off what remains of the company. Not to Hooli – god forbid – but to another large, all-encompassing tech giant.

 

Dinesh moves out of the incubator, into a new apartment with Gilfoyle and Tara. Richard packs up his room and moves back to his parents’ house in Tulsa.

 

For about a month after Richard comes home, his parents actively avoid talking about Pied Piper, or Stanford, or Palo Alto. It feels like they’re walking on eggshells, like he’s a broken nuclear reactor and the slightest slip will lead to a total meltdown.

 

They’re not quite wrong, Richard has to admit. He spends that first month primarily in his room, playing old games on Steam and watching Parks and Rec on Netflix over and over again. By the time he finishes the first watch-through, the upbeat theme song makes him want to shoot himself.

 

After about a month of moping, his sister Carolyn broaches the topic of college.

 

“Richie,” she says, tentatively pushing open the door to his room, “you know we love you, but…what’s your plan for the next couple years?”

 

Richard has to admit that Carolyn’s bluntness, while perhaps not her most endearing feature, is his favorite thing about her. “I don’t know,” he says listlessly, not looking up from his Twitter feed. “Probably just stay here till I become one with the bed.”

 

Carolyn sits down on the edge of the bed and places her hand on his knee. She moves her fingers outward, like the spider thing she used to do to Richard when they were kids.

 

Richard’s leg jolts, reflexively, and Carolyn smiles. “See, you’re still alive in there,” she says. “But seriously, you’re like…one semester short of your degree. Why not go back to college?”

 

“I can’t go back to California,” Richard says hollowly. “I failed. Not just myself, but everyone around me. I can’t face them.”

 

“Stanford isn’t the only college, you know,” Carolyn says. “If you’re looking for high rankings, there’s MIT, Carnegie-Mellon, Harvard…”

 

Richard laughs, a hollow sharp sound. “As if I could get in anywhere. I’m a colossal foundering failure.”

 

“You got into Stanford,” Carolyn points out. “You got most of the way through Stanford. That does actually mean something, you know. And your experience with Pied Piper will make a great essay.” She spiders Richard’s knee again, and he draws it backwards away from her. “At least consider it, okay?”

 

Richard nods. Chewing on his hoodie string. Carolyn pulls it out of his mouth.

 

“Don’t be grody,” she says. “And Mom wants to know if you’re coming downstairs for dinner. She made mac & cheese…”

 

Richard nods. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll be down in a couple minutes.”

 

Carolyn stands up and ruffles his hair before leaving. Richard opens up a new tab on his computer and pulls up the MIT application site.

 

\----

 

Nobody but Richard is surprised when the MIT acceptance arrives. He’s able to transfer most of his Stanford credits and wrap up his degree in one semester. So he rents a small shared apartment in Somerville, packs his bags, and books a flight to Boston.

 

His apartment is in an old brownstone, and he’s sharing it with another MIT student, a quiet antisocial math major named Jeff. They have a grand total of one conversation a month, about rent and utilities. Even before classes start, Richard sends his resume to every tech company in the area, and finds himself taking an intern-to-hire position at a medical tech and logistics company in Cambridge. For the first time since the early days of Pied Piper, he feels like his life is coming together.

 

\----

 

People ask about Pied Piper. Of course they do. But Richard refuses to talk about it, refuses to remember the people he failed. He erases them all from his memory – Erich first, then Gilfoyle, Dinesh, Monica, Laurie, and finally, reluctantly, Jared. He stays in touch with Bighead, still somehow lecturing at Stanford and failing steadily upwards. Bighead’s the only one Richard can trust to forgive him.

 

\----

 

Richard shows up to his first day of classes at MIT almost an hour early, and wanders the campus aimlessly for a while. It’s very different from Stanford – more imposing and stately, but odd in a very distinct tech-y way. Something about it makes him think of the Hooli campus.

 

That thought is accompanied by another uninvited one – _I wonder how Jared’s doing._

 

Richard shakes his head, resists the urge to run a quick Google search on his phone. He needs to leave his Palo Alto life behind, and Jared doesn’t want anything to do with him.

 

On the train home after classes, Richard catches sight of a familiar tall slim figure in a dark green fleece jacket. His face is bowed over a book, but he has the same large delicate hands as Jared, the same neatly parted dark hair and prominent ears.

 

 _There’s no way that’s him,_ Richard thinks, and in the same instant realizes that he’s forgotten what Jared’s real name was, before Gavin renamed him.

 

He feels faintly ill, and can’t quite tell if it’s guilt, regret, or the cilantro in the Anna’s Taqueria burrito he ate for lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Richard, Richard, you complete catastrophe.


	3. Chapter 3

            As the months pass and the trees lose and regrow their leaves, Donald finds himself sinking into a comfortable routine. He loves his job at Dyax, and gets along with all his coworkers – even the somewhat off-putting Anya with her omnipresent face mask and gloves. He finds a yarn store with a weekly Knit Night in Porter Square, and quickly makes new friends, including a high school history teacher who lives a few blocks from him and writes young adult fiction in her free time. He becomes an honorary member of her family, and a frequent guest at weekend dinners. It’s nice, having a family.

            He goes on a whale watch with Mandy and Anya. It’s a lovely experience – friends, fresh sea air, and they’re even lucky enough to catch a whale breaching. He goes on birdwatching walks along the river every Sunday morning. During his third week there, he spots a great blue heron in the reeds along the riverbank, so close that he can make out individual feathers on his chest. The photo he takes of it becomes the lockscreen on his phone.

            He doesn’t even mind the harsh winter – it’s nice to get some more mileage out of his cold-weather clothes, though a bit of a shock to discover that he still fits into things he wore at Vassar.

            One night, after several months at Dyax, he goes out to dinner with Anya and Mandy, to a sushi place in Porter Square. By now he’s gotten used to the nice-end-of-casual dress code at the office, and he has to admit that he enjoys the softness of his old well-worn dark wash jeans.

            “So,” Anya says, maneuvering her chopsticks to pick up a salmon-avocado roll, “I’ve been meaning to ask, what was Hooli like? As a place to work, I mean. You were basically Belson’s right hand man, weren’t you?”

            Donald nearly chokes on his tuna roll. While he chews, he formulates a careful non-answer.

            “Gavin Belson is…certainly a very powerful influential man,” he finally says. “Working closely with him was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

            “Must have sucked balls,” Anya says, with her signature bluntness. “if you gave that up for Pied Piper. Ow!” She glares at Mandy, who Donald assumes must have kicked her under the table.

            “It was…difficult,” Donald admits. “But that’s only part of why I left. I saw real promise in Pied Piper’s tech.” He takes a sip of plum wine. “This is amazing,” he adds. “Thank you Mandy.”

            “No problem,” Mandy says. “I’m glad you like it.”

            “Oh the tech is brilliant,” Anya says, “but you must have known the company wouldn’t survive. I mean, Richard Hendricks may be some kind of compression genius, but he doesn’t know the first thing about running a company. I don’t think even you could have saved him.”

            Donald swallows hard. It feels almost like treason to admit it, in spite of how hard he’s worked to put Pied Piper behind him, but…”You’re right,” he says. “I know now that their failure was inevitable – the entire company was just barely staying afloat, waiting for the next deus ex machina. I have to admit though, Richard’s…resilience in the face of it all was admirable. He stayed true to his principles almost to the very end. And even when he sold it was to Apple.” Donald smiles. “One final thorn in Gavin Belson’s side.” As he reaches for a yellowtail roll, he pushes down the memory of HooliCon. It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters. He’s left all that behind on the West Coast, with Jared.

\----

            Lying awake that night, Donald berates himself for missing the warning signs. The fact that, even after learning his real name, Richard insisted on calling him Jared anyway. At the time, he had taken it as a chance to be reborn, to shed the memories of all the awful things Donald went through, and become Jared, pure and good and functional.

            “Donald, you fool,” he says to himself, “running from your past is no way to live.” He knows now that he must heal as Donald, not as Jared or Ed Chambers or Steve Dasher, or any one of the fake names he’s used over the years, the fake personalities he’s taken on. Donald was the one who was hurt, and so Donald must be the one who grows and heals and moves on from it.

            As part of his healing, he begins volunteering at an animal shelter, and after a few weekends there, he comes home with a dog. She’s a one-year-old greyhound named Lucky, the runt of the litter of a retired racer from a long-closed track.

            He remembers Mandy mentioning something about wanting to make the office pet-friendly, so he emails her a picture of Lucky and writes “I just adopted a dog with separation anxiety, if I keep her in my office can she come to work?”

            Mandy responds almost immediately. “Only if I get unlimited petting privileges.”

            “Deal!” Donald responds. “Do the Dyax logo fleeces come in dog sizes?”

            “I can definitely get Marketing to order some,” Mandy replies.

\----

            Donald is happy in Cambridge, really truly happy in a way he hasn’t been since Vassar. He has to admit that, deep down, he was meant to live on the East Coast. He goes for walks regularly, Lucky trotting cheerfully alongside him. He eats better, 3 square meals a day for the first time since college. He finds himself gaining weight he probably needed, his pants snug around his belly. He’s not so cold and exhausted anymore, and after a few months, Mandy comments on his healthy appearance.

            “You’re settling in well,” she says, kneeling on the floor of his office to give Lucky a tummy rub. “You look better.”

            Donald smiles. It’s a warm April day, and he’s wearing comfortable well-worn jeans and his favorite blue button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to the middle of his forearms. “Yeah, it’s nice to be back here. California never agreed with me.”

            He starts journaling regularly again, writing a page every day with the fountain pens Muriel gave him when the arthritis in her hands got too painful to use them. Writing out his feelings on paper helps – his nightmares become less severe and less frequent. And when he does have them, Lucky is right there, licking his face till he laughs.

            For the first time in a very long time, Donald Dunn is happy and healthy and thriving. Pied Piper and Hooli and really, his entire time in Palo Alto, feel like a dream, or a story he read. Like all of it happened to someone else.

            The cost of living in Boston, thought high, is not nearly as astronomical as Palo Alto. And with his executive salary, Donald can afford luxuries he denied himself before. He even starts planning a trip, a 2-week getaway to Ireland at the end of the summer. He hasn’t traveled since his semester abroad in college, a combination of lack of money and lack of time. But now his student debt is almost entirely paid off, and he can afford to satisfy his wanderlust.

            So all in all, Donald is pretty pleased with his new life. And he hardly ever wonders how Richard is doing – only when he catches glimpses of similar-looking people on the T; a flash of curly reddish hair, restless hands fidgeting with a hoodie string, wide blue-green eyes that always look nervous.

            Besides those moments, he doesn’t think about Richard at all, and it hurts less than he thought it would.


	4. Chapter 4

Sometimes Richard still dreams about Jared, in spite of all his efforts to forget about Pied Piper.

            In the dreams, Jared isn’t disappointed in him. In the dreams, Richard is still CEO of Pied Piper and they are still flying by the seat of their collective pants but it’s fun and it’s exciting and it’s good and they’re happy.

            In the dreams, Jared still loves Richard.

            In the dreams, Richard thinks he might love Jared.

            Richard doesn’t like to dwell on these dreams. It’s all misplaced guilt about Pied Piper, in the same category as his night sweats. If he just stops thinking about it, eventually it will all go away.

            Or so he assumes, at any rate. It would be really fucking unfair if it didn’t.

            In spite of his best efforts he starts biting his nails again. When he Facetimes Carolyn – the video crystal clear even on the shitty campus network, a brilliant use of Pied Piper’s technology – she tells him to put iodine on his hands.

            That night he dreams about Jared painting his nails. He wakes up equal parts turned-on and ashamed.

\----

            Richard passes his courses and graduates from MIT. He doesn’t want to go to the graduation ceremony, but Carolyn persuades him.

            “Come on Richie, Mom and Dad and I have been looking forward to this for years,” she says.

            His parents and sister fly out from Tulsa to cheer him on as he accepts his diploma. He goes home for two weeks, then flies back to Boston and moves into a new apartment, a studio closer to the office. His job is pretty interesting – programming medical AI – but sometimes he still longs for the rush of Pied Piper.

            Gavin’s voice echoes in his head. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty more once-in-a-lifetime ideas.”

            In his free time, Richard tinkers with the base of the neural net he’s developing, but nothing productive ever comes of it. Still, it’s fun to watch it try to come up with titles for country songs or Star Trek episodes.

            He has a quiet but fulfilling social life – D&D with his old squad from MIT, trivia nights at a local bar with his work buddies (he’s indispensable, all that useless knowledge finally put to good use) and the occasional Game of Thrones or Westworld watch party. No dates – he takes to calling his laptop his girlfriend again – but somehow now that doesn’t bother him as much as it used to.

\----

            “Richard, what happened to your last commit? It’s like…half the size it’s supposed to be. I thought you sold your compression algorithm?” Raj says, leaning sideways to talk to Richard across their shared desk.

            Richard shakes his head. “It’s not compressed. I just figured out a way to streamline some of the learning code and shrink the file. Try running it, I guarantee it’s just as good as the old version. Actually I think it’s a bit faster now.”

            Raj raises a suspicious eyebrow, but runs the code. “Holy fuck, Richard,” he says after a few seconds. “You’re a fucking genius. I can see why the whole Valley had a massive hard-on for you.”

            Richard shrugs. “It’s not that big a deal,” he says. “It just makes the code a little more efficient and lets you go longer without overloading or cleaning the memory. Our robots will still function about the same way. It’s not middle-out or anything.”

            “Fuck,” Raj mutters. “I might just fucking quit, I can’t compete with you.”

            “Of course you can’t,” Richard quips. “You still use spaces to indent.”

            Raj flips him the bird and they both return to their code.

\----

            On his way to MIT for D&D one weekend, Richard spots a familiar tall slim man, with dark hair, pale skin, and large delicate hands, walking a sleek dark greyhound in a dog-sized sweater. For a moment, he’s tempted to call out “Jared!”

            But Richard knows it can’t be Jared. For one thing, Jared is probably back in Palo Alto, with all the others Richard fucked over. For another, the man is wearing casual clothes, jeans and a light grey button-down with rolled-up sleeves. Jared would never dress like that.

            That night, Richard dreams about Jared again, about a nail-painting session turned hot and heavy. He wakes with a pounding heart, a boner, and a feeling of extreme confusion.

            “I’m not gay,” he says aloud to his empty apartment, vaguely wondering whom he’s trying to convince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was really short but! Chapter 5 will make it all worth it, I promise. ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two new chapters! Hannukah came early this year.

Donald definitely isn’t wondering how Richard is doing. He’s not at all curious to see if Richard’s had any new brilliant ideas. He doesn’t miss Richard one bit.

            And yet, he finds himself stalking Richard on Twitter and LinkedIn. Unfortunately, neither yields much, as Richard hardly ever posts anything. Donald does note a bachelor’s degree from MIT added to Richard’s LinkedIn, and debates sending him a congratulatory message.

            “Don’t do it,” Anya advises. “Leave the past in the past.”

            So Donald logs out and closes the tab and tries to stop thinking about Richard. And it works pretty well, until he finds himself at HMart reaching for the same package of rice noodles as his former CEO.

            “Richard!” Donald exclaims, trying to match his shock. “Well, isn’t this a surprise! What brings you to Cambridge?”

\----

            When Richard runs into Jared in HMart, all the memories – including the fact that Jared’s real name is Donald – come rushing back out of the labyrinthine recesses of his mind.

            “Donald,” he says, feeling the name in his mouth for the first time. “Hi. You look…well, better, I guess.” He cringes. “Not that you looked bad before. Uh. I mean…” He trails off awkwardly as Jared – _Donald_ – smiles.

            “Thank you, Richard. You look well too. What have you been up to?” he asks. “I saw you graduated from MIT, congratulations!”

            “Yeah, I finally got a bachelor’s degree,” Richard says. “I’ve been working at a medical tech company out near Alewife, working on AI for hospitals. It’s pretty cool actually. What about you?”

            “I’m at Dyax,” Donald says. “It’s a biotech firm near MIT, we’re working on revolutionizing medical testing. “ He laughs. “I wish there was a company like that when I was a child – I was sick nearly all the time. I guess chronic malnutrition wasn’t great for my body.”

            Richard half smiles. This is what he remembers – he’s almost missed these casual allusions to a horrific childhood. “That does sound pretty neat,” he says. “Listen, when we’re both done here, do you want to grab coffee or something? There’s a Starbucks across the street, how about we meet there? I just want to catch up, it’s been so long…”

            Donald does a quick SWOT analysis and decides there’s no risk in a cup of tea. “Sure,” he says. “I’d like that.”

            “Okay, great. See you there in…twenty minutes?” Richard offers.

            “Perfect,” Donald says, and they head their separate ways.

\----

            True to his word, Richard is waiting at Starbucks when Donald shows up.

            “I haven’t ordered yet,” he says, standing up. “I was waiting for you.”

            Donald smiles and drops his reusable shopping bags at the table Richard has saved. “Thank you,” he says as they line up to order.

            Richard orders a venti black coffee and Donald gets mint tea. They sit back down at their table, and for a few minutes they just sip their drinks, not talking. Then, Richard breaks the silence.

            “So,” he says. “I’m…really sorry about what I did in Palo Alto. I was an asshole and I took advantage of you. I was selfish and short-sighted and a total dick. And you deserved better. I’m so sorry.”

            Donald takes a sip of his tea before answering.

            “Thank you for apologizing, Richard,” he says. “That’s very kind of you. I…well, I don’t think anyone’s ever apologized to me before.”

            A couple more silent sips of their respective drinks. Then, Richard says “So um…are we okay now?”

            Donald sighs. “Richard…I can’t forgive you that easily. I…you…everything I left back in Palo Alto is very complicated. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to fully forgive and forget, you know? I did a lot of things I’m not proud of, and I worked so hard with no real reward. It just…took a lot out of me. I need time.”

            Richard nods. “Right. Um. I’m really sorry.”

            Donald smiles. “Thank you very much, Richard. I really do appreciate that you care enough to apologize.”

\----

            Before they part ways and head home, Richard asks for Jared’s phone number.

            “Oh, it’s still the same as it was before.” Donald says.

            Richard awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. “I, uh…erased it. I felt bad. I didn’t want the reminder.”

            “Quite all right,” Donald says. “Here, I still have your number, I’ll just text you.”

            Richard nods, and when the text arrives he enters the number into his phone under _Donald Dunn_.

            Donald smiles. “It was lovely seeing you again, Richard. Like the good old days.”

            “Yeah,” Richard says. “It was nice to see you too.”

            Donald smiles warmly and Richard feels an odd tug low in his abdomen. He’s missed being the recipient of that smile.

\----

            That night, Donald lies awake in bed thinking about Pied Piper. Before he left California, he tried to track down Erlich in Tibet, but nobody could tell him anything helpful. He knows from Facebook that Dinesh and Gilfoyle and Tara are all living together and working at various coding jobs around the Valley. Laurie and Monica are still wildly successful at Bream Hall, championing women in tech – in fact, Monica still emails him from time to time, and recently mentioned funding Carla’s video game startup.

            And now, Richard is back in his life, back on his mental map of the world.

            In spite of the apology, Donald can’t quite shake the tension at the back of his mind, the fear of falling back into his old habits.

            _You have a wonderful job now,_ he reminds himself. _If Richard wants to drag you into some half-baked startup, he’s going to have to do a lot better._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the rating change - I decided better safe than sorry.  
> The non-con warning is because Richard basically assaults Donald in this chapter; you've been warned. The fic will probably only get worse from here.

            The text comes when Donald is taking Lucky out for her evening walk a few days later.

            _Hey Donald, it was nice seeing you again. I’m glad you’re happy out here. Anyway, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to get dinner sometime this week, just to talk._

            Donald feels an uncomfortable chill and pulls his fleece tighter around himself. Lucky whines, noticing his discomfort.

            “It’s okay girl,” he says bending to scratch her behind the ears. “It’s okay.”

            He does a SWOT analysis. Dinner isn’t too much of a commitment, so long as he doesn’t drink too much and pays for himself to rule out any obligation. And it’s Richard, the man who – once upon a time – was the center of Donald’s universe. There’s a part of him – a small, traitorous, repulsive part – that still has a hard time saying no to Richard.

            _Sure,_ he writes back. _How does Saturday night sound?_

\----

            “ _Dinner?_ ” Mandy nearly chokes on her coffee. “You’re going out to _dinner_ with this guy? Donald, where is your self-preservation? He’s a manipulative asshole and you spent so much time trying to move on from what he did to you before. He’s dragging you back in. Mark my words, he’s got another half-baked startup in need of business development.”

            Donald shakes his head, stirring honey into his earl grey tea. “It’s just dinner, Mandy. It’s fine. I can fend for myself. I’m not just going to blindly follow him again.” He smiles. “Besides, I wouldn’t leave you guys for the world.”

            Mandy chuckles. “Yeah, you’d better not,” she says. “We are _screwed_ without you. I mean, do you know how long it took me to find someone who got along with Anya?”

\----

            “It’s just dinner,” Donald says to himself, adjusting his hair. “Dinner. That’s all. Nothing more. You can do it.” He takes a deep breath and pushes open the door of the restaurant. Richard, already seated in a booth, waves him over.

            “Hi Richard,” Donald says, sliding into the seat opposite him. “How have you been?”

            “Pretty good,” Richard answers. “Busy. What about you?” Donald notices that he already has a cocktail in front of him.

            “I’m doing well,” Donald says. “Dyax is rolling out a new form of diagnostic testing so I’ve been in and out of meetings all week. Of course, all I really do is present statistics and growth charts, Mandy and Anya are the brilliant ones.” He chuckles.

            Richard smiles. “I’m glad you’ve got such an…exciting job,” he says. “It’s good to see you doing something fulfilling.”

            Donald nods. “When you – when I left Pied Piper, I just needed to stay busy. Keep swimming, y’know?”

            “Right,” Richard says. Just as he’s about to continue, a waiter comes over to take their dinner orders. When he leaves, Donald asks “What about you? What’s your work like? Any more big amazing ideas?”

            He’s mostly joking, but Richard’s eyes light up and Donald’s stomach drops. _Mandy was right._

            “I’ve actually been tinkering with the medical AI we make,” he says. “I’ve made it…well, smarter, really. It learns faster and more efficiently. And it’s a totally new way of doing it – groundbreaking, really. I think I could do something really amazing with it. But, y’know…I don’t have any ability to run a company. Pied Piper proved that.” He laughs. “So…well, that’s why I invited you to dinner. I wanted to ask you…if you wanted to…join me? I’d give you 51%, you’d technically have control of the company. I’d just do the coding bit. You could be CEO. Use the AI for what you think is best.” He takes a deep breath. “So…what do you think?”

            Donald’s stomach sinks even further and he thinks he’s going to vomit. He knows exactly how Richard felt in that bathroom at Raviga. “I – uh – I’m sorry. Bathroom.” He stands up and makes a shaky beeline for the bathroom.

\----

            Richard downs the rest of his rum and coke – mostly rum, really, a decision he kind of regrets now – and waits for Donald to come back from the bathroom. He lets his mind wander a little, thinking about the future. About Donald’s blind devotion to him and his idea.

            Because Donald hasn’t actually changed since he left Pied Piper, not that much. The way he talks about Mandy and Anya, that’s the way he used to talk about Richard. “Brilliant,” he said. “Amazing.” He’s still Jared, deep down – a biz dev genius looking for someone with a smart idea he can latch onto and follow to…secondary greatness.

            And now Richard’s offering him a chance to be the CEO, to take his genius idea and have full control over it. There’s no way he’s going to say no.

            Except that…he’s been in the bathroom an awfully long time. Richard wonders if Donald’s having a panic attack. It would make sense – that was what happened to Richard when Gavin Belson and Peter Gregory were making competing offers.

            Richard stands up and smirks, the alcohol coursing through his veins giving him an extra burst of confidence. He’s going to go help Donald.

\----

            Donald ducks into a stall and locks the door behind him. He leans his forehead against the cool metal wall. “Breathe, Donald,” he says to himself. “Breathe.” His heart is racing. “Breathe.”

            After a few minutes, his heart rate slows down to normal. He pulls out his phone and texts Mandy.

            _You were right. Help._

She answers almost immediately. _Tell him no. You have Dyax. You have us. We’re not giving you up that easy._

“Right,” Donald says to himself. “Right.”

            Just then, the bathroom door opens. “Donald?”

            It’s Richard’s voice, and Donald’s heart stops.

            “Donald?” Richard asks again. “Are you okay?”

            “Fine!” Donald says, and winces at how high and scared his voice sounds. It’s like he’s a frightened child again, hiding in a closet praying his foster father won’t find him. “I’m fine, Richard.”

            There’s an uncomfortable silence for a few moments. Then, Richard says “So…what do you think of my offer?”

            Donald takes a deep breath and opens the stall door. “I can’t, Richard,” he says. “I can’t leave Dyax, not now, and especially not for a startup. I’ve just started building a life for myself here.”

            “Come on,” Richard says, taking a step towards him. “It’ll be like the good old days. Remember? When you left Hooli, and Pied Piper was your guiding light? What did you say about me then, that I gave you hope and a sense of self-worth? That I saved you from an abusive spouse?”

            Donald feels sick hearing Richard repeating those words. “That was – I didn’t – Things are different now, Richard. I’m happy here.”

            “You were happy there too,” Richard says, coming even closer. “Remember TechCrunch? And when we had those nice offices? And we were _happy_?”

            Donald can smell the alcohol on Richard’s breath. He backs against the sink, the edge of the counter pressing into his lower back.

            “Richard,” he says, his voice cracking, “Richard, I’m sorry, but the answer is still no. And you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t – “ He’s cut off when Richard kisses him, suddenly, violently, hungrily.

            “Richard –“ Donald starts again when they come up for air. But he’s cut off when Richard kisses him again, his hand reaching for Donald’s crotch.

            A matter of months ago, back in Palo Alto, this was one of Donald’s fantasies. If he’s being honest, it still _is_ one of his fantasies, in spite of himself, and he feels himself getting hard. But he remembers what he learned – and taught others – in Take Back Take Back The Night in college. He steels himself and pushes Richard away.

            “No!” he says. “Richard, stop. You’re drunk and I…I don’t want this.”

            “Your dick says otherwise,” Richard says, moving Towards Donald again. Donald puts up his hands, a barrier between himself and Richard.

            “No,” he says again, with more conviction. “No, Richard. I don’t. I’m leaving. This can’t happen again.” He walks out of the bathroom, out of the restaurant. He gets about a block away down Mass Ave before the tears hit, and he ducks into a side street to cry.

            “Donald?” A kind voice from behind him makes him jump. He turns to see Annika, the history teacher from Knit Night. “Donald, honey, are you okay?” she asks.

            Donald wipes his eyes and draws a few shaky breaths. “I’ve survived worse,” he says. “I’ll be okay. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

            “Well, do you want me to walk you home?” Annika offers. Donald nods, and she takes his hand.

            “Okay,” she says. “Let’s just walk. You’re okay. It’s okay.”

\----

            Lucky knows something is wrong when Donald comes home, and she refuses to leave his side. While he takes a 40-minute scalding hot shower to wash the night off his skin, she waits outside the bathroom door. When he gets into bed, she climbs onto the bed next to him and nudges his cheek with her nose.

            “I’m sorry girl,” he says. “I messed up today. This is my fault.”

            Lucky whines and licks Donald’s cheek as he reaches for his phone to email Mandy.

            _Tonight went bad,_ he writes. _Really bad. I think I’m going to need a sick day on Monday._

            As usual, Mandy responds within seconds. _Okay. Take as much time as you need. Do you want Anya and me to come over? We can bring food or anything else you need._

            Donald smiles. It’s good to have friends supporting him. _Thank you,_ he writes back, _but I think I just need some time to myself right now._


	7. Chapter 7

            The texts start on Sunday afternoon.

            _Liar. You wanted it._

_I fulfilled your deepest fucking fantasy._

_You know you want to join me in this. You could be CEO. Full control._

            Donald doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t delete the texts either.  He thinks it might turn into the kind of situation where he’ll want a complete record.

            _You said you’d stick it out till the end. You called me your captain. Your captain needs you, Jared._

            _Fuck. Sorry. Donald. Your captain needs you, Donald._

Donald calls Mandy on Monday morning.

            “I…may have gotten myself into a terrible situation,” he says.

            “Oh, Donald, what happened? What do you need?”

            “Well, Richard’s trying to get me to join his new startup, and…he won’t take no for an answer. I need you and Anya to help me fend him off.”

            “So basically you need us to put the fear of Anya into him,” Mandy says, and Donald smiles.

            “Exactly,” he responds.

            “Consider it done,” Mandy says. “Do you want a ride to work tomorrow?”

            “Please,” Donald says softly.

            “Okay. I’ll pick you up at 8. And Donald?”

            “Yes?”

            “Do something nice for yourself today, okay? Take a warm bath, or have some hot chocolate, or watch your favorite movie. Just do something to make yourself feel a little happier and safer, you’ve certainly earned it. And don’t worry about staying on top of work, I can pick up some of the slack.”

            “Okay,” Donald says. “Thank you, Mandy.”

            “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            Donald brews himself a cup of his favorite herbal tea and runs a hot bath. He takes a book of short stories with him, and reads in the tub until the water goes cold. He steadfastly ignores Richard’s texts. _You’re safe,_ he reminds himself. _He can’t hurt you. You’re okay._

\----

            Donald is waiting outside his building with Lucky when Mandy pulls up.

            “What did he do to you?” she asks when he gets in the car. Lucky climbs into the backseat behind them.

            Donald sighs. “He…almost assaulted me in a bathroom after I told him I didn’t want to join his new company. And then…he sent me all these texts.” He holds up his phone and swallows hard while Mandy skims the texts. “The worst part is,” he continues, “just a year ago, I would have gone with him. This would have been my fantasy. It took me so long to get to where I am now, to be able to say no to him, and all it took to ruin it was one night. One dinner. It’s like all that effort was for nothing.”

            “Don’t say that,” Mandy says, putting the car in gear and maneuvering through the one-way streets around Jared’s house.  “It wasn’t a wasted effort. You are doing so well. And don’t worry about Richard. Anya and I will make sure he stops bothering you. You’re safe here. I promise.”

\----

            Anya stops by Donald’s office around noon.

            “Have you eaten yet?” she asks. Donald shakes his head.

            “Great,” Anya says. “Come with me, I’m heading to that noodle place around the corner.” When Donald hesitates, she adds “That’s not a suggestion, Mandy and I don’t think you should go out alone for the next couple days.”

            “Don’t be silly,” Donald says. “It’s not like Richard will hurt me.”

            “No,” Anya says, “but he needs to see that you’re happy here, that you don’t want to leave. That you have friends keeping you here. Plus, he’s outside right now, probably waiting for you so he can harass you again.”

            “What?” Donald turns to look out the window of his office. Sure enough, Richard is downstairs, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. Donald’s stomach lurches.

            “So come on,” Anya says. “I’ll sneak you out the back door.”

            “We have a back door?” Donald asks.

            Anya smiles. “Follow me.”

\----

            Mandy insists on driving Donald home that night.

            “This is silly,” Donald says as they drive down Mass Ave. “It’s not like Richard could actually hurt me.”

            “Yeah, but I’ll feel better knowing you got home without being harassed,” Mandy says,

            Donald feels an odd warmth in his stomach. It’s so nice to know that someone cares about him getting home safe, even if it’s under such lousy circumstances.

            Mandy hugs him before he gets out of the car. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says. “Be safe, okay?”

            Donald nods. “See you,” he says.

\----

            The next morning, there’s another text from Richard.

            _They’re keeping you under watch, aren’t they? You’re not their friend, you’re their possession. Just like with Gavin._

            Donald bites his lip. Anya advised him against answering the texts, but…he has to.

            _If anyone’s like Gavin here it’s you. Do you know how long he harassed me after I left for Pied Piper? But I didn’t go back to him, and I won’t go back to you. And if you keep harassing me, I will take legal action._

            He puts his phone down on the bathroom counter and washes his face. He likes his new life. He’s staying.

            He is Donald Dunn, and Donald Dunn is going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I finally wrapped this up. Honestly, even though it's...terrible, I'm happy to have it out here.  
> Stay tuned for my next fic, several thousand words of Jared having a good day.


End file.
